The Problem with No Wheels

So here I am on day three (four?) with no wheels.  I'm actually really really loving it.  ie My excuse to exercise.  However there is just one teensy problem with no wheels.

When I was born my 7 year old at the time sister asked if I was Italian.  Because I came out with SO MUCH dark, thick hair.  We're Irish and German, no we're not Italian, no I'm not the post man's daughter, I just got the only strand of hairy dna in my entire ancestry.  So if you're anything like me there is no doubt to the question 'If you could have only one thing while stranded on a deserted island what would it be?'  umtweezersduh.  Not that I'm prideful, but more that my rescuers wouldn't mistake me for a gorilla.  AND if you're anything like me then you know there is no light like natural light.  Not even halogens.  So basic "if and only if" math says 'if you are hairy and only if natural light is suitable to do a thorough job then you tweeze in the car.'  No doubt.

these are the things I learned in college.  ie to be super woman

Unfortunately I didn't think of that when Jamie the tow man towed my car and all 4 sets of tweezers away.  To it's final destination.  Well, no, actually just the car shop.  But 4 days for my face is final destination.


Yesterday emerging from the shower my two year old said, "Peppy pooooped."  This sort of um, shit, throws me over the edge.  So I went into our family room to find it.  No where to be found.  No where.  But it stunk to the high heavens.  Then I saw it: smears on the couch.  I nearly lost my head and Peppy nearly lost his life when I decided that some fresh air would do us good.  (after wooliting the um, shit, out of our couches and scrubbing them.)  So we walked to Walgreens.  On the way I realized Peppy was covered in fecal matter.  We dropped Peppy off at the groomer to get bathed.  Then picked up 2 sets of tweezers at Walgreens.  Then went to Pizza Hut for dinner.  Then walked home.

So friends, I'm happy to report that our house smells fresh, Peppy's ass is fresh, my face is fresh and I'm a new woman.  All with out a car.

thank you Duquesne.  For making yesterday possible. 

Pink to Crimson

The only time in my life I've ever been relieved to find that I had low comment numbers on a blog post was yesterday.  So shame on you if you didn't read it, because you'll probably have no idea what I was talking about.  OHHHbut I'll explain.  I wouldn't leave you hanging that bad.

Over the weekend I received an email to do some advertising on my blog (for money!  Oh for the love of money.)  My friends were over as I was checking me email.  And we may or may not have been carousing.    Anydrinkfest I eagerly (oh so eagerly!) replied to my email just to have my gmail go apesnap on me.  So I googled this person's name who sent me the email and clicked on the link that brought me no where.  All I could find was his facebook, linkdin, myspace.  But then, oh then, I saw something about a virus.  So I looked at it and behold! I found it, I caught him!  This "man" was not a man, he was a virus (from which I'll with hold his name.  Because I leaked it like whoa this weekend.)  A virus that gives you all sorts of popups!  I virus that is a nuisance, though not that  bad.

I panicked and like any other good blogger I blogged about it immediately (after the headache subsided the next day).  I titled the post 'I'll be damned, ________.'  And damned was I when I received an email from him this morning.  Damned was I when I rechecked my references.  Damned was I when I realized you should never drink and read emails.  Or research spam and viruses.  Damned was I when I realized I lost my visions of laying in a bed of cash that I'd earned through blogging (without using Adsense!).  Damnit.

But in all seriousness, I do owe this guy a sincere apology.  It is totally not my style to slam someone's name, especially all over the www.  But I really did think that his name was the name of a virus, so I didn't have any hesitation.  I was sure satellites were watching in my windows all day, until I got his email.  I felt like such a predator.  Sorry, ______.

Now who wants their business in my sidebar???

My spring cleaning is more thorough than you-ourrrrrs

Did anyone else get those torrential down pouring (more like side pouring) rains a few days ago?  We did.  And boy, was it shitty.  Pun intended.  Lot's of pun intended.

Rain is like an erratic teenager.  So much potential to be so good, but even more potential to be devastating.    So much good comes from it, yet so much damage can be done.  Mama don't know whether to love im or hate im.

Last month we got a notable amount of rain and our sump pump went kaput on us.  There was flooding in our basement, we had to throw out some of the girls' toys, but really the dehumidifier took care of us.  Probably not the correct way to go about a mini flood, but it turned out fine.  $500 dollars later and a new sump, I thought we were in the clear.  I was wrong.

Most of the rain that came (in our most recent storm) was during the night.  When I woke up first thing in the morning to get Mr Incredible's scrubs out of the drier, there was ankle deep water in about half of out basement.  Psh, a little rain water never hurt anyone.  So I waded through it, shook off my wet feet, went back upstairs to tell Mr Incredible that we were flooded.  again. and worse.  Hung up my pants to dry because why would I wash them?  just a little rain water on the bottoms.  We called the plumbers again, thinking maybe?? it was a faulty sump, even though I could hear it still running still.  The plumber came (8 hours after they estimated) and couldn't figure it out.  Next morning they sent another plumber to figure it out.  I was (still) barefoot and was (still) wearing these:

the said pants that air dried then I slept nice and cozy in bed with them the next night.

K, really bad picture from two years ago.  But they're wonderful girly dandelions blowing in the breeze pajamas.  sigh.  So glorious.

So I'm downstairs in the basement with the plumber and I picked up a few toys off the ground to put them on a shelf as he was saying something along the lines of "eureka! I've got it."  .....  "don't pick up anything else without gloves on, k?"  ....  "You're basement has been flooding with sewage.  Your town is notorious for this."  .....

me: "you mean I'm stepping in my...."

him: "and your neighbors..."

ARE THE DOT DOT DOTS AS LOUD TO YOU AS THEY ARE TO ME TYPING THEM?  

All my dominoes fell into place and it made sense.  My basement was smelling like a bad gastric blowout that you find only on porta potty walls.  The first day I went into the basement I was sliding around.  Ya know, the same feeling as stepping on the bottom of a duck infested pooped pond.  All my white to-be-washed pile of towels developed brown rings around them. 

ARE YOU NAUSEOUS YET?  ARE YOU NAUSEOUS YET?  My jaw is tight just typing this.  My toes were squishing in not just our OWN fecal matter, but my geriatric neighbors, too.  Prune juice, laxatives and grapefruit.

So this is what I've been doing, friends.  Double gloving it, throwing out anything that cannot handle concentrated bleach, moving furniture, washing washing washing, Xacto knifing our carpet, bringing dripping poop laden carpets, toys, garbage upstairs.  This is what I'm doing.

Please don't never return back to my blog because I wrote a poop post.  This was such an exception and I pray that I'll never have write anything as nauseating again.

Did I mention that to get this fixed is an estimate $1,800??  As in I have a van with missing hubcaps can't we please start saving for a new one?  No, we need to make sure poop will never backwash into my house again.  Me thinks I need to learn the bus route.

This post took me 24 hours. I'm not sure why.

I promised my ever faithful reader (hi nwright) that I would document my Friday birthday celebration.   She wanted picture documentation, but that stopped real quick after I took the first picture in fancy-ville restuarant and my little samsung flash lit up the entire place and screamed that I am not accustomed to fancy dinners with just the husband.  And that my camera takes embarrassingly bad pictures:

sorry nwright.

I'll start with first things first.  Drinks.  Let me preface this with I had a rough day.  I showed up at my parents' house crying sans makeup, frizzy hair and insisting that neither I nor the kids deserved to have fun because we were all acting crazy.  My ever understanding mother said four simple words that changed my night.  "Go have a Manhattan."  "okay."

Have you ever had a Manhattan?????  I thought it was going to be something fruity delicious wonderful because my parents are NOT drinkers.  I should've known better when the waiter started asking me how I wanted it and with what type of whisky.  Being the obedient child I am, though, I told him to make it on the "sweeter" side (read: straight up rubbing alcohol with a marachino cherry).  First sip made my eyes water and remind me of the first time I drank.  

Bread: Pretzel rolls with butter (mustard would've gone better, Black and Blue)

Appetizers:  Crab and lobster fondue aka cheese cheese cheese with a side of gourmet

Bottle of wine: (should've known even better than the Manhattan)

Dinner:  Mr Incredible got the Paella; spicy clams, lobster, crab, scallops, shrimp, on top of saffron rice.  But that's not really accurate because I don't really remember.  I got short ribs and hangar with bleu cheese mashed potatoes and the biggest awesomest onion rings you could imagine.  I didn't even eat half of it because at that point I went to the bathroom to check to see if my dress was literally splitting at the seams I was so full.  It was not.  This is not a joke.  

Two hours (?) later we left, went to the local icecream shop to pick up cake so I could celebrate with the kids and my parents.  I was too full to eat it, but I heard it was good.

This might've summed up the night:

he looks underage

and i look like a dog.  a dog who just had a manhattan.

Narcissism. And don't walk alone on bike paths.

I've said it once and I'll say it again:  Thank God for Wordless Wednesdays.  I started writing about Altemio Sanchez, Buffalo's notorious bike path rapist of 26 years who was finally caught a few years ago and is sharing a cozy ol' time now with his cellmates called Bubba uno and Bubba dos, but then I realized there was no good way to blog about him.  Although I do have to say that I'm not mad or scared, I'm so so sad for him.  I know, my emotions are twisted in that sort of way.  I told my dad that I was so sad for Altemio and he looked at me and asked if I was equally as sad for his victims and their families (he was a killer, too).  silence.  I've already spent too much money on therapy (that's a lie.).  WHOA rein myself back in.  My point of wanting to start writing at him is, ladies, even though he's in jail and everyone thinks that they're in the clear, you're not.  Don't go on bike paths in woods by yourselves, please?  Thanks.

So onto WW.  You know the only reason I'm putting this is to make up for my lack of smarts from yesterday.

In simpler words, I look glamorous throwing my bonneted baby up in the air whilst wearing pearls and sunglasses.  This was 3 years ago.  What this picture doesn't tell you is that you could not see the floor in our apartment, and since laundry overwhelmed me too much I would just make underwear and undershirt runs to Target.

True stories.

Happy Wednesday!  Oh, and don't forget to check in tomorrow because here goes another giveaway!  (I'm easily persuaded)

I'm a self proclaimed martyr

Today was the kind of day that feels like I was stuck in sludge.  Woke up tired, drank coffee, brought clan to baby's checkup appointment, went to my mom's to play, came home to play, ate hotdog, ate hotdog again, had unsuccessful naps, self consciously yelled, decided I needed to get my shit together.  Again.  And what better way to do that than to walk to the grocery store with all three kids?  None.

Imagine: Me wearing dangley earrings (not relevant, just adding to the absurdity), skinny jeans, Gap zebra flats and the Moby wrap with (overtired) baby in it.  While pushing the double stroller with three year old in back and two year old in front.  Get it?  Good.  Now imagine me pushing the said 100 extra pounds uphill there and back with the wind against me.  On two major roads, crossing streets, major parking lots.  I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.  But by golly, kids, we'll have fun.

We get to Wegmans and I realize that I can't really buy that much stuff because a) I can't push a stroller and cart at the same time b) I'll have to carry it all home.  With 100 pounds of kids, uphill, wind against me.  And skinny jeans.

So I buy the regular basics (yogurt, produce, pasta).  I put the heavier (oldest) kid in front to weigh down the groceries that were going to be hanging off the handles in the back (with me?) so I could put the two year old in the Moby and lay baby down in the second stroller seat so she could sleep.  Hope you read that slowly.  Smart thinking!  Now the stroller won't tip over backwards!

I'm walking walking through this large large VERY large parking lot all the while getting crazy stares from people in cars.  But I held my head up high like you, Mrs Duggar.  Baby is crying because she's so sleepy. Blisters are forming on my feet and two year old says she wants to get down and walk.  So I ask three year old (in front seat.  Don't you remember that?  gee whilickers) if she wants to go in the Moby.  She says yes.  Baby just fell asleep.  Three year old hops out of the stroller so I can tuck her away like a baby kangaroo.  And oh shit i forgot that the groceries are still hanging on the back of the stroller with the baby in the second seat sleeping and not buckled in.  And on this very busy intersection the stroller tips backwards, baby wakes up, I'm afraid she has brain trauma (she doesn't, the groceries saved her little head).  I put crying baby in Moby and the other two walked the rest of the way home with me.  And I let them put candy in their yogurt for dinner.  

Would I do this again?  Of course!  It was so much fun.  Of course I wouldn't wear skinny jeans and would buckle baby in next time, but other than that, YES!  I would.  Because let's be honest.  Who doesn't like to play the martyr card?

Not here. kinda. *UPDATED W PICS.

I'm over at Travis' of Fisher of Stories today.  I'm super excited to guest blog for him, though maybe a tad intimidated.  Go read (then follow) about my skiing trip last week, and all the wisdom that came along with it.

I'll post pics up here later of the festivities.

this pic does not do my dinner justice.  I'm telling you, it was huge.

our condo looked right out to the slopes.  ski in ski out condos.  with heated indoor outdoor pool.

hot tub.  outdoor pool just to the left.

right before skiing.

accurate enough.  

"I JUST WANT A GREEN CIRCLE.  NOT A BLUE SQUARE*."

*green circle= easiest.  Mr Incredible convinced me he was bringing me down a green circle, even though the sign was a blue square (more difficult, but still easy... for some)

showoff. 

last two pictures ,may or may not be us.  but close enough.

It's Memoir Monday Again and I'm Going to Write Another One About Duquesne

The last semester that I attended Duquesne University was a creepy one.  I'm sure my room (and roommate) were haunted.  

On each floor of the dorm buildings there was a room or two deemed the "study room."   Most of the time my friends and I were perfecting our toe touches in this room.


<--- might as well've been me because I'm seriously this good.  not.  


Anyway, on the night before a big exam I was actually studying in the study room.  My mom called so I decided to take a break.  I left all of my stuff (my ipod, books, food- the important stuff) in the study room, walked past the elevator, stopped for a drink at the fountain, and was off to my room.  I heard the elevator doors open so I turned to see who it was.  It was a 20 something guy with dark hair and a grey hoodie on, hood up.  I did not recognize him which was weird because I knew everyone on my floor.  He went into the study room, but the automatic light didn't turn on (which wasn't unusual- you just do it manually).  No light turned on.  I was a little freaked out so I told my mom to stay on the phone while I went to go get my stuff that I left in there.  I went in and the light automatically turned on and no one was in there.  I had a running commentary to my mom as all of this was happening, so we were both a bit baffled.  She told me to check the hallways.  No one.  She said I should ask the girls in their rooms if they were having this visitor.  No one.  Weird.  I just decided to ignore (?) it, even though it didn't make much sense. 


Later that night I decided to take another break from studying.  I went into my friends' room to chill out for a while.  My friend, K, said, "did you hear about the Duquesne kid who died in a drunk driving accident last night?"  I said something along the lines of "no- tragic."  She went to his computer and pulled up his facebook page which was open access to anyone.  There was the dark haired guy with a grey hoodie, hood up, in his profile picture.  The EXACT guy that came out of the elevator.


I called my mom and told her.  We prayed a lot that night.

Travis's Memoir Mondays

There Is, In Fact, a Direct Correlation Between Vaccinations and John the Baptist's Head.

There is little question in my mind of whether or not to get my children vaccinated.  My Grandmother told me a story that made my decision very easy and very clear:

Her Grandfather's son (her uncle that she never knew) contracted diptheria.  Basically what happens is a membrane grows over your throat until you choke to death.  Enough said?  No.  There's more to the story.  This little boy had to be quarantined in his house as to not let the highly contagious disease spread.  His parents had to stay elsewhere to let their son die alone.  Are you convinced yet to get your kids vaccinated?  The father walked by his house one morning to work, and saw his son choking to death.  He burst into his house to save/be with his son when he was dying.  His son died and then the father contracted it and died.

I remember this when I have to bring my babies to get vaccinated.  It takes the edge off my anxiety and reassures me that I am doing the right thing.  But why, why? do they have to bring the shots in on a silver platter?

It's Like Being a Guest Blogger, Only It's Not

Memoir Monday credits to Travis from I Like to Fish


As part of my college experience at Duquesne University, I used to cook for a household as a part time job. I'd take the bus to get to my job, and be back to my dorm sometime after dark. I loved everything about it. I loved to cook, I loved the bus ride, I loved getting away from campus for a while. *just realized this is completely irrelevant*
One night I got off the bus one stop farther than normal because I decided I wanted to walk. It was a fall night, but pretty warm still. I had on a jacket but left it unzipped, and my hands were ungloved and it didn't bother me. As I was walking up the hill that reaches the Duquesne, about 3 blocks from campus, I saw a guy turn the corner approaching me. Typically (unfortunately) I'm a firm believer in 'it won't happen to me.' But this guy gave me chills. He was dressed in a black trench coat tied up tight with a hat on and a black scarf wrapped around his face. His hands were in his pockets.

ooo you're creepy

I put my hand in my coat pocket and dialed 911 ready to press 'talk' (and hoped it would appear as a gun, not a cell phone). As he passed I said hello to give the impression that I didn't notice he was totally inappropriately dressed as to remain coooool, calm and collected. He nodded his head and turned the corner. When I got closer to campus, I looked behind me to see where he was, and he was still lurking in the corner that he turned after we passed each other.

That weekend my parents came to visit me. They asked how work was, and since I always like a good story, and always like to give my mom the chillies, I told them what happened. "Don't be alarmed, mom and dad, but listen to this story." They both thought I was kidding. I told them I wasn't, why? They said that morning on the news a guy described exactly the way I had described him had just been arrested for 24 armed robberies in the area.

Creepers and grim reapers.